


In This Peace

by ChasingTheQuill



Category: Moonlight (2016)
Genre: Black Gay Romance, Canon Queer Character of Color, Falling In Love, Heart-to-Heart, M/M, One Shot, POV Character of Color, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 10:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10332263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingTheQuill/pseuds/ChasingTheQuill
Summary: Unlike anyone I have ever met, I know him.  I know him well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> “Let our scars fall in love.”  
> ― Galway Kinnell

 

We are relaxing on the sofa in his apartment on a Saturday evening, drifting off to the soft pliant sounds of Miss Erykah Badu, when he throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his open chest. 

He is introspective, and his mood steers mine.  Out of the blue, he tells me we stand a better chance of making _this_ work now because, if we’d let things run their course back then, no doubt we would’ve fucked it up entirely.  I roll his words around in my head for a moment and tell him one thing I know for certain: I didn't have much for guts back then.  He tilts his head like he does when he wants to know more without having to ask for it.  I tell him I was fourteen years old when I first grappled with this undeniable urge to touch him.  He laughs in that quiet, unassuming way he does and rubs a heavy palm over my chest.  Something in him snaps open, and he leans further into me.  He tells me bits and pieces of the long months he spent in juvie; his voice is cool and calm, and his breath is a warm exhale against my skin.  I listen, gather up his warmth and soak up his words.  I don’t tell him how many times I dreamed of him all the years we were out of touch.

~*~

Unlike anyone I have ever met, I know him. I know him well.  I know him like I know the look on his face when his Mama calls in the wee hours of the morning, certain she needs the sound of his voice to survive the day.   I know him like I know the weight of those bouts of sadness that grip him and press down upon his brown body.  I know him like I know the curve of his warmth, pressed tightly against mine in the deep of night.  I know him like I know the moan he makes when he hardens as I, hungry for the taste of him, lick up and down the insides of his thighs.

When he tosses and turns in the bed next to me, we roll onto our sides in the slipping shadows of dawn and cling onto each other as though the morning is determined to see us apart.  He sighs deeply into my sleepy skin and tells me I am a shield for his nightmares.  He mumbles broken words against my earlobes that I am too tired (or too hopeful) to memorize.   He folds around me like a skin, runs his warm hand down my side and feeds this craving before my lips ever meet his. 

~*~

On this given Saturday, as the sultry voice of Miss Badu sings of her heartache, I rest my head snugly into his chest.  I hold onto him in this peace and my mind begins to drift… to the seemingly endless span of our childhood days… to my father, the heavy drawl of his voice and the words he might say to me now, if he were alive and here to witness _this_.  My thoughts shift to my own child, my boy… and I begin to conjure up the words I will use to tell him of this love, this longing, this man... I forage for answers well before I can imagine the look on his face or the many questions he might ask...

I am dragged back to this present when he sneaks a hand under my tee and tickles my spine. _“Not sayin' I ain't lovin this, Kev. I am, and you know, we could sit here like this all night.  But... I gotta say I've got a great idea for something else we could be doin...”_   I swat his roaming hand, and he smiles wide in that bashful way he does when he knows he will get precisely what he wants.


End file.
